


somebody hurt you (but you’re here by my side)

by prettydizzeed



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Killers - Freeform, but you could really read it either way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydizzeed/pseuds/prettydizzeed
Summary: Raphael forgets, sometimes, that to the outside world, they are equally stoic, both masked in sarcasm and brandishing the sharp edges they’ve repurposed from everything that’s impaled them; to him, his fragility is obvious, but Meliorn still seems invincible most of the time.





	somebody hurt you (but you’re here by my side)

**Author's Note:**

> title is from “I Know A Place” by MUNA

Meliorn’s texts are always brief, borderline terse in a way that would’ve made Raphael anxious a few years ago, back before he decided to trust that people wouldn’t bother talking to him if they didn’t actually want to. Now, though, it’s almost calming; Meliorn’s directness is a comforting constant in the world. This message reads simply “ _run for cover by the Killers”_ —no “it made me think of you,” no “listen to this when you have the time, if you want.” Just the title, tossed into the screen by sure hands.

Raphael listens, of course; he doesn’t need to be asked. It’s good, but he isn’t sure why Meliorn, who doesn’t touch his phone for days at a time, thought it important enough to message to him, until he gets to the beginning of the second verse, and then he’s rewinding and screaming, “What are you waiting for, a kiss or an apology?” into his windshield so loud it should be cracking by now. He should be able to see his fury spiderweb its way through the glass.

He texts back _probably both_ and can practically hear Meliorn’s snort in the response: _she is entitled like that_. He pictures all of the windows in his car collapsing against the driveway. It already feels like he’s been in a wreck, right down to the phantom pressure against his sternum still trying to protect him, to hold him back.

*

It’s rarer that Meliorn needs to be supported. Raphael forgets, sometimes, that to the outside world, they are equally stoic, both masked in sarcasm and brandishing the sharp edges they’ve repurposed from everything that’s impaled them; to him, his fragility is obvious, but Meliorn still seems invincible most of the time.

And then there are days like this, when Raphael sits cross-legged on Meliorn’s carpet and tugs Meliorn’s hand to him and carefully cuts his fingernails, short enough that they can’t do any damage but not so short that it stings. Meliorn stares at his own hands like he doesn’t recognize them, but he leans into Raphael’s touch.

Meliorn paints his nails neon green and paints Raphael’s nails black and throws the bottle of red paint out the window, where it shatters and latches hold of the concrete like a bloodstain. Raphael lays down on the floor and listens to the same 20 songs chase one another to a temporary semblance of recovery.


End file.
